Kirk Cousin’s off-season of humility continues. At this rate, he’ll have more than enough fodder for a self-effacing personal essay once he gets that writing gig at the New Yorker. Just last week, he had a sports memorabilia store misspell his name on promotional poster for an event with him signing autographs. Now, there are officials from the league office dropping in on him at his grandmother’s house for a random drug test.


If it’s any consolation, I’m sure Kirk Cousin’s grandmother’s bathroom is very well appointed with doilies and fetching photos of Johnny Weissmuller, that old fox, him.